So, here’s what happened, but, let me first admit that I was wrong, I had no business overstepping my bounds, according to him, he analogized it to me taking the keys to his car without asking permission to drive it.
OK, I give him that, nonetheless, I take responsibility for presumptuousness. Who died and made me Queen of Sheba?
Listen, it’s definitely his right and prerogative to voice his disagreement with what I did, but what was at odds for me, were the words he chose to script his discord, as well as, the method chosen to deliver it. In other words, in dispute for me was that, what was written could have been contrived differently with more sense and less stark insensibility. Essentially, what he wrote and what I read was like the difference between that of chalk and cheese.
Suffice to say, a big fight ensued over the phone that corralled with a shouting match. Cardboard man tried his ever best to explain the why, where, when, what and the how of my imagined misinterpretation; of course, being a vexed woman, I wanted to hear nothing of his intended explanations for his ham-fisted action.
The fact of the matter was that, not even if Jesus Christ himself came off the cross and tried to reason or rationalize to me his valid points, I was not in a listening mood to hear out either one.
Imagine my incense, as this is how I construed his disapproval, “Whom do you think you are, Queen Etta, look on the door, whose name is written on it”
Consequently, dear cardboard man ended up habituating for a few days in the dog’s house.
If I were to do a Freudian analysis on my irked reaction, I would say that on certain levels, I felt slighted, unappreciated and taken for granted that ultimately resulted in a feeling of dejection. Bottom line, I felt hurt and his action ‘bun an hatt mi suh’!!!!